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RPlog:An Unpleasant Meeting
Aboard the Diligence Twila had gone into hiding for a few days, not being heard from by anyone until tonight, where she had called the most senior members of the corporation, people she also considers her friends. She's currently sitting aboard the Diligence, awaiting their arrival. In her hand appears to be some form of holodevice, one that has been kept off during the duration of her wait. Xar'on barges onto the Diligence, his astromech following him dutifully. "What the hell, kid? Ain't heard a damn thing from any of ya fer days, 'n now a sudden meetin'?" He plops down into a seat and growls, "This better be good." Upon receiving the call to meet on the Diligence, Tak Dagon took his sweet sweet time getting there. Now he's on board and moving toward other two attendees with a lit spice cigar in his mouth. He shakes his head and smirks slightly. "Settle down, Doc. It's not like there was actually anything you were doing." The somewhat arrogant man grins and leans against the wall just inside. "Talk to us, Twila. What's going on?" The Twi'lek looks like hell, her eyes holding dark circles under them, her expression sad. In lieu of an answer, she simply turns on the holodevice. it brings up an image of Gren, basically saying goodbye to her, the message and image causing Twila's tears to start anew. ***The bridge of the Eternal Vigilance is empty, save for the lone, and forlorn figure of Gren Delede, standing before his command chair. He's got a deathstick in one hand, and a holopicture in the other.*** When you get this, I will be gone, Twila. I've taken the old-timers, those who have been with me since the start, and left. I am sorry for taking the ship, but it's time for me to leave this place." ***His voice hitches, and tears begin to run from his good eye.*** "The time that we shared was the happiest of my life...but, you deserve more. You deserve a chance to live a clean life, away from an old hating bastard like me. So, we're going to do what we do best. Kill. We're going to kill Imperials, until our missile bays are empty, and our blasters are dry. Until our boots are red with their blood. And, we're doing it, because I want you to live in a galaxy without crazy old men who fight, because it's all they know." ***There is a final pause, and the man draws a deep breath, and throws his deathstick to the deck, where he lets it burn out.*** "When I die, which I expect to be soon, I will do it thinking of you, my love. You will never leave my side, or my heart. In my dead eye, I see you...and soon, that will be all that I see. Please, tell the others that I expect them to take care of you, and that I will always cherish them. But, with you, I can only send my love." ***Without one of his distinctive pauses, he reaches up to snap off the camera, his face breaking moments before he does*** Xar'on stands up abruptly, kicking wildly at the droid, roaring, "What in the hell is that!" He glares at the other two wildly, his face turning red with rage. "I spend my savings gettin' outta my CSA contract fer him outta frakkin' loyalty, 'n he ups 'n deserts us?! I'm too old fer this shit!" he yells, stomping around the ship. "I can't be droppin' everythin' again cuz he goes off on some drunken crusade, the damn sonova..." he stops abruptly as he catches a glimpse of the Twi'lek. He deflates, his shoulders drooping as he walks toward her. Standing in front of her, he parts his arms a bit and mutters, "I'm sorry, girl. C'mere." Dagon just stands quietly staring at the empty space where the holo was. His face is essentially a mask of nothingness, showing no emotion and not belying his feelings. Even as Xar'on goes stomping about the ship hooting and hollering, the younger man stands with one arm crossed and the other holding his cigar up near his face. His eyes shift to the crying Twi'lek and he slowly takes a pull from his cigar, letting the smoke out slowly. "So that's that. So much for loyalty." His thumb scratches his eyebrow a bit before he turns and moves back toward the hatch. "Don't go.." Twila implores Dagon while she allows herself to be held by Xar'on, the tall female about falling into the man's arms as she lets him comfort her. "I need you guys. I can't keep VSC alive on my own." Yes, she's going to keep the VSC running, one way or another, but she's practical enough to know she's going to need help. "And don't be mad at Gren. He left us but I do not want there to be any ill feelings as they'll only distract us from our goals." Looking between Dagon and then the doctor and then back to Tak, she licks over her lower lip before adding as if in afterthought, "I need my friends..." Xar'on pats Twila's back with his gnarled hands, and glares at Dagon. "Boy, you walk out that door, 'n yer showin' no more loyalty 'n that fool did. You hired on to serve this company...this woman IS this company now," he growls, his voice hoarse. He releases her from his grip and takes a step back, grunting, "What's the plan, boss?" Dagon slides open the door and sticks his head out, getting the attention of one of the crewmen that's keeping it operational. He mutters something to him and the man hands him a datapad. He turns back and stares at Doc. "Keep your blood pressure down, old man. I'm not going anywhere." He plugs the cigar back into his mouth and walks over to the table and sits, placing the datapad in front of him. "Cyclops is gone, and we've got a lot of men depending on us. Do you really think I'd give up -everything- I had just to walk away from this?" He smiles slightly around the cigar and looks at Twila. "You heard the man. What's the plan?" Both men are given a warm smile, one that almost rids her eyes of the perpetual sadness while it lingers upon her lips. "We'll keep doing what we've been doing. I'll be doing the legal paperwork to have power over VSC given solely to me and will hold a press release within the next few days. I will also hold a meeting with the New Republic people and notify them of Gren's departure." She takes a deep breath before she shakes her head, Twila still not believing she's having to do this. "After that, it's business as always, gentlemen. We will be hiring more people and the completion of the office will be done soon....hopefully." Xar'on nods. "If ya want, I'll go with ya when ya talk to the Republic folks. Me 'n them's got history. After all the years I gave 'em, they better not give me no sass." Dagon nods. "I'm in. I think we should go to the New Republic together. We're all in this together and we need to put up a united front." He smiles slightly and makes a few notes with the datapad. He pushes back and stands up, walking over to the other two. "Anything you need help with, Twila, you let me know. Got it?" Twila nods. "That's what I was going to say. I want you both with me." Taking a deep breath, she looks curiously at the holodisplay unit she still holds and tucks it into a pocket, putting it away for now. "I will give Gren a month. If he does not reemerge in that time then we will hold a funeral for him. But until then, let's assume he and the others who left with him are fighting the good fight in a manner they see as the best and continue with our lives." Xar'on growls, "I ain't got time to waste on that damn fool, now. Cuz o' him, we're out a ship, 'n some o'the experienced folks. Got too much damn work to do." Dagon nods. "He's right. We've got too much to do. We've got to oversee the building process, get us a new flagship, and reorganize." Whoa. Tak's got business knowledge? Spending time as a smuggler and pirate gives one a passing knowledge. "Right now, we need to get moving on dealing with the remaining men." "Look, I understand what you're saying. We got things to do. But I lost more than a boss. I lost a husband because of all of this. And where you guys might not feel like you need to mourn.." Twila’s voice hitches slightly and she steadies herself, grabbing on to the doctor's shoulder as the realization hits. She's going to be a widow. It takes the Twi'lek a moment but she eventually calms and Xar'on's arm is patted before she continues. "I will speak with Luke. See if he can help us. At the very least, see if the NR can lend us a ship until we can afford one of our own." Twila brings a hand up and runs her fingers along the inked image upon her right lek, the tattoo of two interlinked rings, one solid black and the other a blue that almost blends in with the color of her flesh. "I think I want to have this removed, Xar'on. But I'll keep the ring...if I may?" Xar'on offers a very rare smile, and nods. "I gave it to you, girl. It's yers to do with whatever ya want. I ain't got no need fer it." Dagon watches Twila and nods, looking down for a moment in a moment of humility. The bald man stands and sighs. "Well I've got a lot of work to do if we're going to transition smoothly. Call me if you need anything." He glances back and nods again before making his way through the hatch, calling out to workers as he moves through the ship. Twila moves quickly and ambushes Dagon, giving him a hug from behind that lingers a moment, a poor show of the woman's appreciation, surely, but it's what she has to give at the moment. There are no promises made, as she has none that she can guarantee. "Thank you, both..that's it, I guess.." And with that, she steps back, letting the men depart.